


When You're Busy Making Other Plans

by helloearthlings



Series: The Plan [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 00:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10910247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloearthlings/pseuds/helloearthlings
Summary: Merlin and The Plan were two irreconcilable parts of Arthur's life.He wasn't ready to let go of either of them.





	When You're Busy Making Other Plans

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone is wondering, the majority of this was written while hate-watching Pretty Little Liars with my sister. It's also completely unedited so sorry about any grammar or plot inconsistencies! I liked the voice/narration in this one so let me know what you think of it :):)

For as long as he could remember, Arthur had a plan for his life.

It wasn't a general kind of plan, either, it was the kind of plan where he knew the exact age he was going to be when he was promoted to partner at his father's law firm, the exact time he would date a woman before he married her, the age he'd be at their wedding, when he wanted to have his first, second, and third child, and though he couldn't exactly plan for their genders, he was hoping the universe would give him a boy, a girl, and another boy, in that order.

The Plan was Arthur's only religion, and he adhered to it fully. There wasn't anything that could ever stand in the way of how his life was going to turn out.

That was, there hadn't been until Merlin.

Arthur could tell that Merlin had fallen asleep in the past few minutes - his breathing had slowed, he kept making snuffling noises that most decidedly weren't cute, and his chest was rising and falling underneath where Arthur's cheek was pillowed.

Arthur closed his eyes, burying his nose in Merlin's t-shirt.

Merlin and The Plan were two irreconcilable parts of Arthur's life.

He wasn't ready to let go of either of them.

* * *

 

The Plan stood as follows:

Age 18: Get into Oxford.

Age 22: Graduate from Oxford with honors.

Age 25: Graduate from law school. Take job with Pendragon, Gorlois and Partners that was assuredly waiting for him.

Age 26: Meet the future wife.

Age 28: Be promoted to partner.

Age 28: Marry the future wife.

Age 30: Have first boy. Preferably name him Charles, after Arthur's great-grandfather and the only member of Arthur's family who hadn't been vindictive and manipulating. (He might have been, but he died when Arthur was ten, so Arthur could never know for sure. He liked to believe that he wasn't the only Pendragon with a moral code.)

Age 33: Have second child, a daughter, whose name would be left up to Arthur's future wife. (Arthur wasn't a complete control freak, or so he liked to convince himself.)

Age 35: Have third child, another boy, and name him Lionel. Arthur thought it was a good name, a strong name, the kind of name that inspired the masses.

Merlin thought it was a stupid name.

Merlin.

Dammit.

When Arthur listed The Plan to himself, he could almost forget that between graduating from Oxford and becoming a lawyer, he had answered an ad on Craigslist for a roommate near Oxford and found himself in a two-bedroom apartment with a biochemical engineer with a heart of gold and stupidly attractive cheekbones.

It wasn't that Arthur hadn't slept with men before - if he was honest with himself, (which he so rarely was), he preferred them to women - but he liked women well enough, and while substituting a husband in for a wife on The Plan seemed simple enough, it might interfere with Arthur's chances of making partner and being taken seriously and not having his father rip him into tiny shreds and feed him to his hunting dogs.

Or whatever

Arthur knew that his internalized homophobia was all down to his father, but the self-awareness of that fact hadn't convinced him to put a great deal of effort into combating it.

He didn't think he'd need to.

That was, until Merlin had gotten drunk on New Year's Eve and kissed Arthur at midnight.

And then they kept kissing. Most every night. Along with other illicit activities.

Which would be fine. Arthur hadn't ever had a friend with benefits before, but he knew people who had done it throughout uni, or even later.

Except it wasn't fine.

Because Merlin was perfect.

Merlin made him eggs in the morning and looked over Arthur's homework for him and got Arthur a prestigious internship through the fact that he was friends with bloody everyone, was kind and charming and played with Arthur's hair at night, and let Arthur snuggle with him without talking about it, who took in injured birds and drunk friends alike, who was an environmentalist hippie with drank organic tea, who was the opposite of traditionalist planner and would laugh at Arthur for ever being so tied to one specific plan, the epitome of go-with-the-flow, who wanted to create prosthetic limbs not just because he was bloody brilliant at the science behind them but also because he wanted to make others' lives better, and Arthur -

Arthur kind of loved him for it.

But whenever Arthur considered actually telling Merlin that, The Plan reminded him that that next year, he needed to meet his future wife and have future babies and have a future career with a current father who would never allow his only son to throw away his carefully crafted future for a ridiculous, big-eared, lopsided-smile, wonderful idiot of a man.

The kind of man who deserved far better than trying to be pigeon-holed into Arthur’s ridiculous, heteronormative, perfectly-controlled future. The kind of man who deserved someone who didn’t care about reputation or propriety or traditions.

And Arthur had almost convinced himself to _try_ – time and time again, he almost convinced himself that Merlin just might be worth it.

But then the nagging doubt came in that someone as perfect and wonderful and open as Merlin would ever settle for someone like Arthur, Plan or no Plan.

So Arthur continued to fall asleep on top of Merlin every night and pretend that it wasn't his way of cuddling.

* * *

 

"We need more milk," Merlin commented at breakfast the next morning. "Can you stop on your way back from class?"

"Sure," Arthur said, looking up from his notes that were spread across the dining room counter, leaving little room for his plate of scrambled eggs. He tried not to notice the domesticity of this conversation. "Anything else we need?"

Merlin shrugged, making a face into the refrigerator. "As long as you're there, you can get some roast beef."

"I don't like roast beef," Arthur pointed out mildly.

"Yeah, but I do," Merlin's hands were suddenly on Arthur's hips and Arthur slapped at them slightly, trying not to blush. This was his kitchen, after all.

"I have an exam this morning, let me study," Arthur's fingers intertwined with Merlin's momentarily as he pried them off of himself.

"Fine, fine," Merlin laughed, pulling away, but not before reaching around to peck Arthur's lips. "I have to get to the lab anyway. I'll see you tonight? We can watch Pretty Little Liars some more. I know it's your favorite."

Arthur really did blush that time. Pretty Little Liars was his deepest, darkest secret, and Merlin was the only person he'd ever allowed to watch it with him, because Merlin would only judge him in funny, harmless ways, because that's what Merlin was, funny and harmless.

"I don't watch Pretty Little Liars, I hate-watch it," Arthur corrected. "And only so I can make sure Morgana never gets any ideas from those girls. She's just like them, you know."

"Your sister is lovely and only mildly terrifying," Merlin said, pulling on a his brown, beat-up leather jacket that made his shoulders look so nice. "And don't lie to me, we both know how invested you are."

"In hating it? Yes, I'm very invested," Arthur tried not to squirm. "Goodbye, Merlin."

Arthur was pretty sure that Merlin yelled "Bye, dear!" on his way out the door, but he might have imagined that.

* * *

 

 

Arthur and Merlin had watched Pretty Little Liars every night for the next week, and then went to sleep in the same bed without having sex. Arthur was pretty sure that they had been spooning last night instead of their usual mass-of-limbs kind of cuddle that they could both pretend was unintentional.

It was growing far, far too domestic for Arthur's taste (read: sanity).

So after his internship ended on Friday, he got spectacularly smashed in a bar two blocks from his flat, alone, at 5:00 in the evening.

He would have regretted it if he had been in any state of coherence after the fifth drink.

Somehow, he got to thinking about The Plan and its stupid correlation with stupid Merlin and how if he didn't tell Merlin how he felt he was going to explode, so he stupidly made his way back to the flat where Merlin would assuredly be, along with the Netflix password so they could watch Pretty Little Liars and cuddle without sex, and even though Arthur's brain really liked that idea, it also really liked the idea of sloppily making out with Merlin while he told him that he loved him and wanted him and maybe they could move to Australia together, or maybe Norway, since Merlin hated hot climates, the sun burned him like a vampire, and Merlin had Norwegian ancestry so wouldn't it be nice to go to his homeland?

Drunk Arthur and Sober Arthur really needed to have a talk, but unfortunately, Drunk Arthur had the controls right now.

"You," Arthur declared when Merlin opened the apartment door after Arthur's incessant banging, "have a beard."

Merlin smiled at him. His teeth were white. Too white. Very, very white. "I would describe it more as stubble. I thought you liked it. How much have you had to drink?"

"Many," Arthur stumbled past Merlin into the room. "Many drink. Bartender should've stopped me after six. He didn't."

Merlin made a whistling sound. "Damn, you're gonna hate yourself in the morning. I'm gonna get you some water."

"Stop," Arthur put his hands on Merlin’s shoulders, and then moved them to Merlin’s very, very nice neck. “I like your cheekbones. And your face. And you. I really like you.”

“…I like you, too,” Merlin looked confused, and Arthur leaned in to kiss the frown off of his face, but Merlin moved away.

 

“We’re not doing anything when you’re this drunk,” Merlin side-stepped Arthur and headed to the kitchen, presumably for the glass of water he had promised, but Arthur’s addled state immediately thought Merlin was running away from him because he hated him.

“We haven’t done anything all week,” Arthur muttered mournfully. “We’ve just…spooned and watched a girly show and shit.”

“Is that bad?” Merlin’s head poked back into the room. “I liked it. I thought it was sweet. I’m only telling you this because you’ll never remember this conversation – you’d make fun of me for weeks if I ever used the word ‘sweet’ to describe you.”

“Maybe –” And here was when Drunk Arthur had what he thought was the greatest idea known to man, but Sober Arthur would really, _really_ regret come tomorrow – “Maybe you can…can be a part of The Plan. I can…I can fix The Plan so that you’re in it. I can do that. It’s my Plan, isn’t it? I can just…never talk to my father about my personal life. He doesn’t have to know his grandkids. That’s fine. I don’t want him to know them anyway, he’ll probably screw them up and make them hate themselves and their sexualities forever –”

“Whoa,” Merlin said, brow furrowed, his hands reaching out to steady Arthur. Hands. Arthur liked his hands as much as he liked the rest of Merlin. Which was a lot. He might’ve said that out loud, but he also might’ve vomited on the carpet.

“It’s…it’s just gonna have to be a compromise,” Arthur slurred. “Since we’re so different. Outside wedding – since you’re a hippie and all. Yeah. In the woods somewhere. You’d like that.”

Apparently, Drunk Arthur had already decided that Merlin reciprocated those feelings, whereas Sober Arthur had become Drunk Arthur trying not to think about whether or not his internal struggle was worthwhile since Merlin was probably far too good for him and would never settle for a repressed traditionalist with daddy issues.

Arthur may have also said that part out loud, too, or Merlin might’ve started leading Arthur toward the bathroom in case of impending vomit.

That was when the alcohol caught up to Arthur and he fell face-forward, but he was pretty sure he didn’t hit the floor.

* * *

 

The sunlight woke Arthur up.

That and the tomato-y smelling cocktail that was shoved under his nose.

Then the headache kicked in.

Or, rather, the migraine.

“Jesus Christ,” Arthur muttered, wishing that someone had murdered him before he had entered that bar yesterday so that he didn’t have to feel like this. The last thing he remembered was stumbling toward home, wanting to tell Merlin –

Merlin.

“Just me, though I would definitely call myself your lord and savior about now,” Merlin said far too cheerfully, shoving the tomato drink toward Arthur’s mouth. “Drink up. You’re lucky you don’t have alcohol poisoning, you know.”

“I only had….” Arthur buried his face in the pillow. He realized then it was Merlin’s pillow. He was in Merlin’s bed. “….a lot. A lot of drinks. God, I wish I was dead.”

“Do you….remember any of the things you said last night?” Merlin squinted at him as Arthur downed the disgusting concoction Merlin brought him in one gulp. It tasted horrible, but Arthur trusted that Merlin would never steer him wrong.

“Did I start talking about Pretty Little Liars?” Arthur felt himself turning red. “I did that at Morgana’s the last time I got this hammered and she’s never let me forget it.”

“No, no,” Merlin laughed, biting his lip. He leaned forward to smooth Arthur’s hair back. It felt nice. Really nice. Too nice. Arthur was immediately suspicious. “Um…you kept mentioning something about a plan?”

“Shit,” Arthur whispered, already horrified with himself. No matter what happened, his cover was blown and Merlin would know that he was some crazy, hyper-organized freak who lived his life by a set of rules he created when he was a kid.

“Do you remember, or is that just like….a thing in your world,” Merlin blinked at him uncertainly but there was a kindness in his eyes that Arthur knew wouldn’t last for long.

“…What did I say about The Plan?” Arthur asked, dreading the answer.

Merlin’s eyes widened fractionally. “Um. Something about fitting me into it, whatever it is, by making sure that your father never meets his grandkids? And your repressed sexuality? Which, since you’re sleeping with me, I don’t think is _that_ repressed. Um. Something about having an outdoor wedding – I assume you meant you and me, but I don’t know. You seemed upset that we hadn’t had sex this week – but I thought we were having fun anyway? I mean, you opened up to me and let me into your weird world that doesn’t revolve around law school and making your father proud, I really felt like you had let me in for the first time –”

“Merlin,” Arthur cut him off, shocked. Not at the rambling – Merlin always rambled. But it sounded like he was upset. Like he was freaked out, but not about the Plan – about Arthur not….not _wanting_ him.

Which was, quite frankly, ridiculous, because who wouldn’t want Merlin?

“What?” Merlin blinked at him a couple of times, his left eyebrow twitching just slightly.

“I liked this past week,” Arthur admitted. “It was nice. It was just – just like you said. Me letting you in some more, but – it just…the more time I spend with you, the more I like you, and the more The Plan gets all muddled and confused.”

“What the hell is the plan?” Merlin asked, but his features softened slightly.

“I’m…” Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, wishing they could have this conversation when his skull didn’t feel like it was about to implode, because he knew he’d put this less than eloquently. “I’m one of those crazy people who has their entire life planned out, like – how old I’ll be when I get married and have kids and get made partner and what I want all the kids’ names to be and in what order and – and – I like you. I like you a lot, in the more-than-sex  sort of way.”

“And I don’t fit into the life plan,” Merlin said slowly, resignation seeping into his features. “I’m not…good enough.”

“No!” Arthur said quickly before correcting himself. “Well, yes. I mean. My father has certain expectations for me and marrying a woman is…one of them.  But that’s not the only thing. You’re just – you don’t fit because it’s just who you are. You don’t fit into boxes or labels or – or anything. You’re you. You’re perfect. I can’t just adjust The Plan for you because that’s not fair. That’s me putting you into the box marked ‘spouse’ and you deserve a box marked ‘Merlin’. Or not a box because – because you don’t fit.”

Merlin blinked at him, eyes growing more and more confused.

“I don’t know,” Arthur said, suddenly much, much more tired than he was a moment ago. “I’m hungover, but – you’re amazing and I can’t just make you fit into my world when you deserve someone to create a world _with_ you.”

Merlin exhaled through his nose, a little smile appearing on his face. “You’re sweet. Misguided, but sweet. I like you, Arthur – a lot. It scares me how much because – because you’re right. I don’t fit in your world. But – but why _can’t_ you create a world with me? What’s stopping you?”

“The Plan,” Arthur answered immediately, but realized that wasn’t quite true. “….My father, I guess. I mean, when people plan their lives from the time they’re five….I suppose it’s more his plan than mine.”

“Hence the repression,” Merlin acknowledged and Arthur nodded. “Look, Arthur – I’m not saying it would be easy, us being together. And it wouldn’t adhere to any sort of plan you have because that’s not how life works. If….if you wanna, do this, you’re going to have to give up this plan of yours. Look, everything happens for a reason, okay? Even the shittiest, weirdest, most amazing things – and you can’t plan that. There’s a life that’s meant for you, and it’s not gonna stick to your rigid schedule. But if you want to keep living in denial, that’s alright – we can just go back to being roommates and forget all this.”

Merlin reached forward to smooth his hair again and Arthur leaned into him instinctively.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said after a moment. “I…I should’ve told you about this sooner. I’m bad at that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m bad at a lot of things, too,” Merlin gave him a crooked smile, but his eyes were bright. “I’m not saying you have to sacrifice everything, Arthur, but just – open yourself up to the possibility that life has plans for you other than getting made partner at your father’s company and having a girl and two boys named Charles and Lionel. Still an awful name, by the way.”

Arthur blinked up at Merlin. “How’d you....?”

“Through your puking last night,” Merlin said, his mouth twitching, “where I was being very supportive and kind and brushing your hair out of your face, you extolled me the virtues of the name Lionel. It was very long-winded. You’re lucky I didn’t let you drown in your own vomit.”

“Things are never boring with you,” Arthur couldn’t help but smile a little at Merlin’s amusement, “but I’m a little worried you might get bored with me.”

“Never,” Merlin grinned. “Objectively, you’re anything but perfect. But I think you might be perfect to me. And while I make no promises, because life absolutely doesn’t, an outdoor wedding sounds nice. But I might negotiate you down to two kids, neither of whom are named Lionel.”

“We haven’t even gone on a date yet,” Arthur pointed out, but most of him didn’t really care, too busy being beyond relieved and ecstatic that despite his tremendous boatload of issues, Merlin might want him anyway.

“Yeah, well,” Merlin said with a slight laugh, his hand moving to rest on top of Arthur’s, “I’m planning ahead.”


End file.
